


world’s tallest self-supporting tower

by theundiagnosable



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, a tiny love story about a boy and a city and summer and projecting emotions onto sandwiches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 05:17:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14442174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theundiagnosable/pseuds/theundiagnosable
Summary: Coming back to Scottsdale has always been a relief, like something in his chest goes quiet that never really does until he’s back in the desert. It’s the kind of quiet that only comes with being at home, and it’s not that hedoesn’tfeel that this time, but-Auston doesn’t know.





	world’s tallest self-supporting tower

It takes a while for Auston to figure out what it is he’s feeling, ‘cause it’s not bad, exactly, but it’s not how things usually are, either.     

Like- sure, it takes a while for the sting from playoffs to die down, but once it does, coming back to Scottsdale has always been a relief, like something in his chest goes quiet that never really does until he’s back in the desert. It’s the kind of quiet that only comes with being at home, and it’s not that he _doesn’t_ feel that this time, but-

Auston doesn’t know.

Something’s _off_ , starting maybe three weeks into break. He blames it on missing hockey, at first, or the boys; but he books time at the rink and messages the groupchat and still feels antsy in his skin for nearly a week before the reason finally occurs to him:

He wants a fucking _sandwich_.

Not, like. A random sandwich. He wants a roast beef sandwich from the deli across from the park, which would be fine, except for it’s the deli across from the park back in Toronto.

It’s this tiny, family-owned little place, recommended by Brownie then kind of co-opted by Auston as his and Marns’ place; and it’s a nice place and all, great for midnight food runs, but not ‘pining for a roast beef sandwich from a different country’ nice. Not that that makes a difference, apparently. It pops into Auston’s brain and stays there, and then the more he tries not to think about it the more it’s literally the only thing he can think about.

_Know what i want_ , he texts Marns that night, because if anyone’ll get it, it’s him.         

Mitch responds back real fast, even with the time difference, because his summer sleep schedule is trash. _a normal hairline?_

Auston doesn’t take the bait. _deli express._

_oh moooooooood,_ Marns sends, and Auston grins at his phone. They send each other emojis back and forth for a little, this dumb not-quite-conversation, then Mitch must fall asleep, because the typing bubble appears and doesn’t go away.

It’s quiet.

Like- Auston never realized how dead silent it gets here at night, doesn’t know when he got used to the sound of traffic and a city lulling him to sleep, but he must’ve at some point, because he tosses and turns for nearly an hour before he passes out.

\---

Auston can’t really believe that he’s willingly passing up an opportunity for his mom’s cooking, but the sandwich thing doesn’t go away, so on Friday he finds himself looking up _roast beef sandwich Scottsdale_ in what is possibly a new low.

He convinces Breyana to go with him so he’s not driving across town in pursuit of a sandwich on his own. It’s less pathetic if it’s a social outing, probably.

“I can’t believe this,” she says, once they’re sitting at a table waiting for their food. “My brother’s a millionaire and he takes me for lunch at a literal hole in the wall, what’s wrong with this picture?”  

“Technically every room is a hole in a wall,” Auston says, smart-ass, but he gets distracted when the waitress puts down a tray of food and his replacement sandwich is in front of him. He knows it’s not the same the second he looks at it, because it’s on sliced bread instead of a bun, and the meat is cut different, and-

“Well?” Breyana asks, grabbing at her own grilled cheese. “Is it the sandwich of your dreams?”

“No,” Auston says, and picks at the crust of the bread with a sigh. “Not the same. There’s this old, like, Polish lady, she slices the meat right in front of you, and it’s right near the park – there’s so much green, Bree, right in the middle of the city.”

Breyana’s laughing, but not like she’s making fun of him, really. Just happy. “I have literally never seen you this enthusiastic,” she says. “And it’s about a _sandwich_ , you’re so weird.”

“You’re weird,” Auston retorts, a little embarrassed. She’s not wrong, because it _is_ about the sandwich, but it’s also – he feels like he’s waiting on something, this feeling like his first tourney away from home, just kind of unsettled.

“It’s weird having you back,” Breyana says, like reading his mind. “Like. Good, obviously. But.”

“Yeah,” Auston says, then, on a whim, ‘cause it’s this strange, melancholy thing, “I missed you guys, or whatever.”       

Breyana kicks him, hard, under the table, and he kicks her right back, and it’s the most home-feeling thing since Auston got here.

He still wants that fucking sandwich, though. And-

_My brother’s a millionaire_ , Breyana said.

Huh.

\---

As far as impulsive actions go, buying a plane ticket to Toronto probably ranks somewhere between dress shoes without socks and the time they dared Will to run down the hotel hallway naked. Not the most thought-out thing, but also not the least, and it doesn’t really matter anyways, because Auston does it and ends up on a plane before he has time to dwell.

He remembers to text Marns right before he has to stop using his phone, _Pick me up at pearson at 5 k._ That done, he puts in his headphones, leans back in his seat, and shuts his eyes while the crew runs through the safety brief.

He doesn’t even get close to sleeping. It’s not like being on planes is anything exciting, after two years in the league, but there’s something humming in his bones the whole flight, and his heart skips when he sees the Toronto skyline.

There’re, like, forty missed messages from Mitch once Auston takes his phone off of airplane mode, starting with _????_ and _r u joking dude_ , and, over the course of the four hour flight, morphing to _fuck off u cant just tell someone wat to do_.     

That last one is ominous, a little, but Auston heads out of arrivals in Toronto and, yeah, Marns is standing there by a pillar in a Jays snapback like it was never even a question.

He’s staring at his phone, so he doesn’t notice Auston coming over until Auston flicks the brim of his hat. “Hi,” Auston says. He’s- not really relieved, ‘cause he knew Mitch would show, but. Close to that, maybe.

“You’re an _asshole_ ,” Mitch says instead of ‘hello’, but the message is kind of undercut by how he hugs Auston so forcefully that they almost fall over. “Aw, Matty.”

“Hi,” Auston says again, fond, and when Marns pulls back he’s smiling extra-big, freckles dotted across his cheeks from the sun. “Nice face.”

“Nice face you,” Mitch says, nonsense, and elbows Auston. “I didn’t think I’d see you ‘til August, dude.”

Auston shrugs and falls into step next to him, content to let Mitch do the talking. And Mitch does, chattering about some trip he took to the beach, pausing to smile gamely when a guy in the elevator asks for a picture with them, then resuming his story like he never stopped. It’s good to see him happy again. Real happy, not the forced kind like when he took it upon himself to cheer everyone up after playoffs.

Once they’re down in the parking garage at Marns’ car, Auston tosses his backpack into the back and climbs into the front passenger seat, same as always.

Mitch is plugging in his phone to the aux cord. “Am I dropping you at your place or are we doing something?”

Auston shrugs, semi-casual. “You hungry?”

“I could eat, yeah.”  

“Deli?” Auston suggests. He’s half-hoping that Mitch won’t make the connection, that he’ll have forgotten the time Auston brought it up, but he shouldn’t bother- Mitch remembers _everything_ , and Auston’s weird sandwich craving isn’t an exception.

“Hold the fuck up,” Mitch says, maybe a little stunned. “You flew in from Arizona for a sandwich and pop?”

“A sandwich and soda,” Auston corrects the Canadian-ism, automatic, and Marns rolls his eyes, pulling a face. “And. I don’t know. I guess.” He shrugs, kind of self-conscious, because it really does sound kind of stupid out loud. He just- he had to come.

Mitch maybe gets that this isn’t a chirping kind of thing, because he doesn’t laugh, which Auston’s grateful for; he just says “Okay, then”, turns the key, and hands Auston his phone so he can choose the music.

\---

They rock-paper-scissors for who has to go in to order the food, because one of them alone is less likely to get recognized than the two of them together. Auston loses, so he takes one for the team, heads in and leaves with a plastic bag of food and napkins and Canada Dry.

It’s gorgeous out, the kind of summer day that seems like it’s laughing in the face of a five-month winter, so Mitch drives them right into High Park and they find a shaded corner of the big field and sit on the grass to eat, picnic-style.

Marns sits close enough that his knee keeps on brushing up against Auston’s, probably by accident. He’s not pushing Auston to talk, which is a little unusual, just unwraps his sandwich and watches Auston do the same.

“Cheers,” he says, and taps his sandwich against Auston’s.

“Cheers,” Auston echoes, and then he pulls back the foil wrapping and takes a bite.

And, like. It’s a sandwich.

A good sandwich. But just a sandwich. Meat and cheese on a bun, not particularly emotionally fulfilling. Not the kind of thing worth flying into a different country for.

He braces himself to feel disappointed, to sink back into that sense of something off that hasn’t been going away, but then he realizes – it’s gone.

He feels good, settled in a way that he hasn’t in days or weeks. It’s like things move extra slow, then, like faced with the reality of a solidly-adequate sandwich that doesn’t matter as much as he thought, Auston starts looking. He looks at the city skyline that he can just barely see over the tops of trees, a little girl in a Leafs shirt kicking a soccer ball down the field, Marns wolfing down a sandwich next to him.

Auston feels quiet. Not desert-at-night, can’t-sleep quiet. Quiet like _home_ , in his chest.

The realization catches him off guard, like everything about how he’s been feeling finally clicks. He doesn’t know how he was homesick for a place that’s not even his home; except for how it kind of has been home for going on three years, and god, he _missed_ it.

The media crucified them when they lost game seven, and Auston was relieved to get back to Scottsdale, but truth is he missed Toronto. Hockey and the boys and Marns and, yeah, the deli, but also the city itself, what it is and who he is here. It’s like: Arizona made him, and Switzerland changed him, but Toronto is just _his_ in a way that he doesn’t think any place has been before, because here he’s not a kid or the weird American who skipped the WHL, he’s Auston Matthews, and he gets to decide what that means, to carve out a space and a story here.

He gives the local guys a lot of shit, usually, for how proud they are of their city, but he thinks he gets it. It’s something special, having this place as your home. Or- one of your homes.

‘cause it is, really. Home.

 “How come you’re smiling?” Marns asks, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

Auston shrugs, doesn’t bother trying to school his expression. “It’s a good sandwich.”

“You’re so weird,” Mitch says, in an affectionate kind of way; then he steals Auston’s ginger ale and takes a sip the way he always does, maybe also in an affectionate kind of way.

Auston scoots over so his knee bumps against Marns’ too, not on accident, this time. And Mitch stays next to him, and they eat their sandwiches, and their city goes on around them.

**Author's Note:**

> it’s been a rough week for the city and for the team as well. but we’re here and we’re hopeful and there’s so, so much good all around <3

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] world's tallest self-supporting tower](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18462932) by [philologique](https://archiveofourown.org/users/philologique/pseuds/philologique)




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